Page 63 of A Temporary Forever

I’ve always been an unhinged bastard,avoiding bedrooms because they brought on boredom, but this is next-level recklessness even for me. But I can’t stop.

I rip the wrapper with my teeth and sheath my engorged length. “Celeste, tell me the danger, the anticipation of being caught doesn’t thrill you, and I’ll stop.”

She pants, her breasts heaving in my hands, but she doesn’t say anything. I fist my cock with one hand, and with the other, I push her between her shoulder blades. She bends slightly, her arms landing on the railing and her hips pushing against me.

I lift her robe and lean over her, whispering in her ear. “What’s it going to be, black swan? Should I stop?” I nudge my tip between her folds.

Her head falls forward and she stifles a moan. “I’m going to divorce you for this. Be quick.”

I chuckle, and in one thrust I plunge into her. Fuck, she’s tight. I pause, allowing her to adjust.

“Merde,” she gasps and bites her forearm.

Her robe slides and covers the spot where we’re connected. As much as I’d like to watch, the silky green cover softens the threat of our location, adding a touch of privacy.

Or that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Because as much as I enjoy sex with a dash of risk, this feels different.

Firstly, my daughter isbehind the door. Our nonexistent relationship would certainly get derailed if she walked out. A part of me knows that’s not probable, but an unfamiliar, newly born conscience sprouts guilt.

And guilt has never invaded my mind before. Even after reckless liaisons that Cressard had to bail me out of.

“Harder,” Celeste hisses.

And therein lies the second novelty. This woman isn’t like any other. She takes with abandon, chasing her own pleasure.

Most women in my life try too hard to please me. To make sure they earn a chance at a second time or more. My affection. My commitment.

Celeste isn’t like that. Perhaps because she’s stuck with me, so she doesn’t have to perform to get that next-day call. But it’s not just that.

Every move. Every thrust. Every touch. She takes them without inhibition. She welcomes them like she deserves them. Like she knows her value.

While I have her in this position, at my mercy, I still sense her autonomy. And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing ever.

“Your pussy takes me so well.” I dig my fingers into her delicious hips.

I move in a frenzy, drowning in this woman who has been getting under my skin for weeks now.

With my hand, I trail up her spine, her soft skinlike silk under my fingertips. And since when am I noticing details like that?

Suddenly, I’m annoyed by the spell she cast over me. I fist her hair and pound into her like she’s my enemy.

Because with all the feelings sex with Celeste stirs in me, she is an enemy. I don’t need her uprooting my deeply encoded habits.

Sex is just sex. I keep repeating the mantra, the city lights blurring in front of me.

Celeste stifles a cry, her walls clenching around my cock. She sags against the banister, coming, and chanting something French into her forearm.

“Bend over, fingers on the floor,” I order.

She looks at me over her shoulder, and fuck, I wish I could take a picture. She’s breathtaking, with her dazed gaze, swollen lips, and the background of the city that never sleeps.

“Show me that dancer body of yours, black swan.”

She smiles languidly and then bends forward, her fists touching the floor by her feet. Fuck, she’s flexible. With her folded like that, my cock sinks so deep I grunt, and it takes me only a few frantic thrusts before an explosion of pleasure rages through me.

“And still you didn’t scream my name,” I say, mostly to distract myself from the assault of thoughts and feelings pouring through my mind.

She pushes away, glancing at Mia’s door while she tries to cover herself, pulling the sides of her robe together. She spots the sash where it dropped earlier and dashes to pick it up.

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